I hunted him down at the smoky bar at Chez Girard. He had a Gitane or the likes hanging from his lips, and he was wearing a frightfully yellow button-down. If there's one thing the French aren't afraid of it's colour.

He bought the bottle of red, and I toyed with thoughts of whether he was circumcised or not. In my (vast and international) experience, Europeans who aren't Jewish usually bear their foreskins with pride. I find this both fascinating and intensely attractive.

The thing with French men, or at least what makes them so different from Anglo-South Africans, is that besides their distinctly aristocratical knowledege of class and culture, they tend to expect that you put out. Luckily, I'm willing, if not because I'm currently bearing the brunt of a large sexual drought, and because he was vrai beau.

But I've been grappling with something that really thwarts my romantic illusions of a relationship ? emotional detachment.

Investigating the male cave

Mark my words, one of the most irritating aspects of a new relationship is the concept of the male cave.

Men naturally regress to the animalistic 'caving' that John Grey made such a fortune from with his books based on this subject: The Cave Theory, while women are left wondering, "was it something I said?".

Men seem to think it's perfectly normal to just drop off the edge of the planet unannounced because they "need space to do stuff". Suddenly you're about as much as a priority as hanging the bathroom mirror.

The problem with the Cave Theory, is that there are a few holes in the prophetisation. Men disappear or claim they need space for two reasons. One, they have "shit to do". They really are busy. Two, they have "shit to do" ? probably with other women?

Some kind of love nest

They put a distance between you because they have other fish to fry, and unfortunately as is my experience, they want to fry it in another woman's panties.

Within the first stages of a budding relationship, you constantly touch each other and swop a gargantuan amount of bodily fluids.

You feed off the useless babble of affection you exchange, and soon, you're discussing how many children you'll spawn together and what the furnishings of your new love nest will look like. But before any of that happens, the man will disappear.

He's still very much alive. He's still very much in contact with the outside world. He just wants to get you out of his hair. And as you frequent each other's beds over and over again, this little male foible will crop up like a bad virus, without fail.

There's no point resisting it, nor is their any point in disillusioning yourself that it won't happen. It does. You know it ladies, as much as I do.

To what end?

I sat their pondering the predictability of what would happen between myself and 'Jean-France' sitting opposite me.

We could have a few explosive dates involving wine and high heels; we'd start having sex; then we'd become exclusive. We'd inform each other that we'd be touching no one else, and if either of us did, there'd be dire consequences involving a smashed vase, or someone would find sugar in their petrol tank.

Everything would be great until we got to know each other. We'd have a few, "A ha! So these are your true colours, bitch!" arguments, and surviving that, we'd settle into a peaceful harmony of few fights and general happiness. Maybe we'll discuss the future together, in the hope that if the union lasts, and it may ? until the day he'd just disappear...

John Grey will say he's 'caving', based on a number of symptoms and emotional criteria, and you'll simply think he doesn't want to see you. Then you'll feel scorned and confused.

And so, men and women co-existing within close proximity of each other, and trying to comprehend each other's behaviour seems far too out of reach for me. It takes patience.

Being a sucker for repeated punishment, I wondered if French men would be any different. Is it worth even testing? These short-lived relationships certainly are exhausting. Is it worth the investment?

Perhaps I can decide after he's made me a delicious meal dressed only in an apron.

> Got something to say? Send me a mail...
> Get Sex on Stilettos delivered to your inbox for free with our weekly newsletter

Your comments so far...

I just wanted to compliment you on your articles. Today's one was especially good starting with the Gitanes and then bringing in the female understanding of the cave.
Your articles are like a whole 'Sex in the City' episode rolled up into a five-minute article. The mating game is such a lot of fun when you are single and I'm enjoying hearing the female side of things, as girls would never speak like this in front of guys.
There has gotta be a TV series in this somewhere!
Mike

This is brilliant! I love reading your articles. I'm 28 years old, only had one boyfriend, who I ended up marrying and it ended in divorce last year. So, need I say, the 'dating game' is very new to me.
I recently met a very attractive and successful man, quite a bit older than me, but I know what the end result is going to be, and I find myself wondering "this is going to be exhausting, is it worth the investment?"
Reading your article this morning really made me laugh and, well, I think for now, I will put on my stilettos and have some fun.
Nicole